Sons and Daughters (37 page)

The young man shrugged. ‘She ses she’ll not know what to do wi’ ’ersen. Never lived on her own, see. But she’d be willing to do jobs around Buckthorn Farm and here – in the farmhouse – if Mrs Morgan ever wanted any help.’

‘I’m sure Mary’d be delighted. I know she’s missed Peggy’s help. So, that’s settled then. You can move in whenever you like. So, what was the other problem?’

Eddie’s face sobered again. ‘Telling Mr Thornton, miss. After all, Lily’s bairn
is
his grandchild.’

Charlotte stared at him, unsure where this conversation was leading. ‘You mean – you expect him to help support the child?’

‘Oh no, miss.’ Eddie looked hurt. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone to think that of us. We don’t want money. We want nothing from them except – approval, I suppose. And I’d like to know what they want us to tell the little ’un as it grows up, like. Mesen, I’d believe in being honest and telling it the truth, but mebbe the Thorntons wouldn’t like that. I want the kiddie to have my name, an’ all. Just so it doesn’t get called horrible names as it’s growin’ up.’ He shrugged. ‘See, folks round here have got long memories. If we’re not honest with it, poor little thing’ll likely be told in the playground, don’t you think?’

‘Eddie Norton, you are a remarkable young man,’ Charlotte said. ‘And I’m sorry if you think I thought badly of you. I didn’t and I don’t. The reason I said what I did was because Miles Thornton himself said he’d always see that Lily and her child were provided for.’

‘I see, miss. Well, there’s no need. I’ll look after it as if it were me own. I promise you – an’ him – that, and mebbe, if we’m blessed,’ the young man twisted his cap even faster in embarrassment, ‘we’ll have some little brothers and sisters for him or her one day.’

‘I hope you will, Eddie.’

Charlotte pondered for a couple of days on how best to broach the subject with Miles, but she knew she couldn’t put it off for long. The quiet marriage ceremony was to take place at eight o’clock the following Saturday, for Lily’s baby was due any time and Eddie was determined that the child, in the eyes of the world at least, should not be born illegitimate. Not many folks knew the identity of the natural father and Eddie was more than happy to take the responsibility. To outsiders, he’d be seen to be ‘doing the right thing’ by the girl he’d got pregnant.

They met by accident on an early morning ride on the beach. Charlotte’s heart turned over as she saw the familiar figures of Miles and Midnight cantering along the firm sand at the water’s edge. He saw her and rode towards her. After greeting each other, they rode for a while in companionable silence.

It was Miles who opened the subject she was finding difficult to broach by asking, ‘What’s this I hear about Lily and Eddie Norton getting married? Is it true?’

She glanced at him, trying to read his expression. Was he pleased or angry? But his face told her nothing.

‘Yes, it’s true. On Saturday at eight in the morning.’

He nodded. ‘I suppose it’s just family, is it?’

‘Mm.’ There was a pause before she said, ‘Actually, I wanted to come and talk to you about it, but I’ve been putting it off.’

‘Oh? Why?’

‘Well – I wasn’t sure how you’d feel.’

He sighed. ‘I’m pleased for her.’ His voice hardened a little. ‘Since my own son refused to do the honourable thing.’

Charlotte smiled weakly, anxious not to get into that particular discussion again. ‘Eddie wants the child to have his name but he wants to know if you’d have any objection to it being told the truth, when it’s old enough of course. He promises he’ll bring the child up as his own and no difference will ever be made between it and any more children they might have together. It’s just that he doesn’t want the child to hear playground gossip when it’s older. He believes in honesty from the start.’

Miles was thoughtful for so long that she began to grow agitated, thinking that he disapproved in some way.

‘He’s a remarkable young man,’ he murmured at last.

‘Yes – I told him that. But he wanted your approval. That’s what he said. Your approval.’

‘Charlotte, would you ask him to come and see me? I’d like to talk to him, but reassure him, he has my blessing on everything he is planning.’

‘There’s just one thing I ought to mention. He’s not looking for financial help. In fact, when I half suggested it, he was most indignant.’

‘Then my admiration for him is growing by the minute. I’ll tread carefully, Charlotte, I promise. I’ll not offend him. But it
is
still my grandchild and I’d like to see if he would let me do something. Set up a trust fund, perhaps, for when the child comes of age.’

‘Perhaps. But he might see that as being unfair on any other children, as he said, if they’re blessed.’

‘If they’re blessed,’ Miles repeated the words softly and then sighed. ‘My grandchild . . .’ And then he added words which brought a lump to Charlotte’s throat and a twinge of envy. ‘I hope it’s a girl. Oh, I do hope it’s a girl.’

Miles’s hopes were not realized. Lily’s baby, born on the last day in June only five days after her marriage to Eddie, was a boy. He was named Alfred Joseph, but would always be known as Alfie.

Osbert almost danced with glee. ‘There, my boy has proved he can sire a son. Now he only has to find someone worthy to bear him an heir. Someone better than that little trollop. Still –’ his eyes gleamed with excitement – ‘a young feller has to sow a few wild oats. But now he should choose more carefully, and next time—’

‘I don’t think Master Philip will be siring any more children – boys or girls – for a while yet,’ Charlotte reminded him tartly. ‘He’s seventeen and is to return to school and his studies now he’s recovering so well.’

‘Yes, yes, but one day – one day he will marry well and have a family. I wonder,’ the devious man mused aloud, ‘if he would change his surname by deed poll to Crawford.’

‘Father!’ Charlotte was appalled. ‘That would be grossly unfair on his own father. Think what you’re saying.’

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. ‘I know
exactly
what I’m saying.’ He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Mm, yes, that’s a good idea. Now, why didn’t I think of that before? If the father won’t marry you,’ he looked her up and down, sniffed and then muttered, ‘and I can’t say I blame him – then the boy could take my name. He reckons he’s going to be a lawyer, so he’ll know how to go about it.’

Charlotte was so angry – not for herself, but for Miles Thornton – that she almost spilled out the news that she’d found her mother alive and well and had met her. But something held back the words. Was it still fear of this man? No – she didn’t believe that. Not now. At least, not for herself. But perhaps she was afraid, deep down, of what he might try to do to her mother if he knew where to find her. Or was it pity? She looked at the man, wizened by bitterness and grown old before his time because of it. He looked seventy or even older – so much older than his fifty-seven years. She’d not had much of a life – but she still had a chance to make something of it. He’d wasted his. Of his own choice, he whiled away the years sitting wrapped in discontent and resentment, manipulating the lives of others for his own insidious schemes. And he was still trying to do it. No, she wouldn’t tell him about her mother, but her decision was more to protect Alice than for any other reason.

Life settled back into a routine. The weeks passed – another haymaking and another harvest were over. Philip went back to boarding school at the start of the autumn term and, this time, Ben went too, so there was only Georgie left at home in the great rambling house to keep his father company. The little boy – though growing rapidly now – still attended the village school, continued to play with Tommy Warren and the other boys, and never ceased to charm the locals with his cheeky grin.

‘Perhaps he ought to go to boarding school soon too,’ Miles confided in Charlotte. ‘But I can’t bring myself to let him go.’

‘I can understand that,’ she said quietly. She didn’t add that she wouldn’t be able to let her children out of her sight – if she were fortunate enough to have any. But she kept silent. Things were different for boys. They had to have the best education that could be found – or afforded. She’d have given her eye teeth to have been sent to boarding school, she mused, but that would have meant her father loosening his domination over her. And he’d never have done that. She sighed. Despite his threats, she knew he’d never let her go, even now. If she were ever to escape, the decision would have to be hers.

But something still held her here at Buckthorn Farm amidst the bleak, windswept marshland. Was it loyalty and duty to her father? Or was it the presence of the handsome man on the big black horse riding beside her along the beach? They met often and Charlotte no longer rode one of the shire horses now. At the August horse fair that year, she’d bought herself a more suitable horse for her outings to the beach where she hoped to encounter Miles.

One morning in October, when Charlotte took a well-earned break from work, they met on the beach. It was the first time in several days she’d had the chance to slip away, for she and all her workers had been fully occupied with the lifting of their first harvest of sugar beet. The crop had been good – better than they’d dared to hope for. But now it was safely on its way to Bardney, Charlotte allowed herself a brief respite. She’d also given Eddie and the other workers on Buckthorn Farm the day off. ‘As long as the milking gets done and the animals are fed,’ she’d warned.

After greeting each other, Miles asked, ‘Have you ever told your father that you’ve met your mother?’

Charlotte shook her head. ‘No,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I – I couldn’t.’

‘Mm. So,’ he added slowly, ‘you’ve never solved the mystery of the grave in the churchyard, then?’

She shook her head and murmured, ‘I’m not sure I want to.’

‘Ah,’ was all Miles said and they rode on in silence. They parted in the lane, he to canter towards the manor, Charlotte to ride slowly back to Buckthorn Farm, her gaze holding sight of him until the very last moment when he disappeared from her view.

‘Miss Charlotte – ’ Cuthbert Iveson had visited the Sunday school class as usual, but today he lingered until all the children had gone. This was the first time he’d deliberately sought her out since her father’s threats to have him removed from his living.

She looked up at him and smiled, but her smile faded when she noticed how thin and pale he’d become. His hands were shaking and he chewed nervously on his bottom lip.

‘Miss Charlotte – I have to tell you – I’m leaving.’

‘Oh, Mr Iveson – no!’ She paused and then asked, ‘Has this anything to do with my father?’

‘Well – in a way, but—’

‘But I thought Mr Thornton wrote to the bishop and explained—’

‘He did, he did,’ Cuthbert said quickly. ‘And I was grateful – most grateful. No, I’m leaving of my own free will.’

But his eyes were haunted and she was sure that this was not the truth – or at least, not the whole truth.

‘Why?’ she asked candidly.

‘I am no longer comfortable here.’

‘But I don’t understand. Your services are well attended. The church is almost full – well, most of the time. And always on special occasions like Harvest and Christmas and Easter. So why?’

He avoided meeting her gaze. In anyone else, she would have described his manner as shifty. But in a vicar – Heaven forbid! she thought.

‘There are things I can’t tell you about. Confidences, you know.’

‘Like confessions, you mean?’

‘Well – sort of. Look, I’m sorry. I just have to go. Make a fresh start. I had hoped . . .’ He looked at her now, meeting her gaze. ‘There was a time I’d hoped that you and I . . .’

She touched his hand and said gently, ‘I know.’ But there was no regret, at least, not on her part. Now she knew how it felt to fall in love, she knew she could never have felt about Cuthbert the way she felt about Miles. ‘When do you go?’

‘The bishop has found me another living. My last services here will be next Sunday.’

‘So soon? Who will take the services until a replacement has been found?’

‘Mr Knoakes from Lynthorpe will take one service a day here. Matins, I think.’

‘And the Sunday school?’

Now he actually smiled. ‘I hope that will continue as it always has – under your expert tuition.’

Charlotte laughed. ‘I don’t know about the expert bit, but I’ll certainly do my best.’

‘I’m hoping the next person to come here will be older. And a married man. I said as much to the bishop. I – I think he understood.’

Charlotte nodded and said quietly, ‘I think it would be for the best. But I’m so sorry if it’s my father who’s caused you to leave.’

Cuthbert became agitated again. ‘It wasn’t because of you and me. It was something else.’

‘Oh? What?’

He pressed his lips together. ‘That’s what I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. It – it was a deathbed confession and must remain so. But it troubles my conscience.’

‘Have you discussed this with the bishop?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘He advised me to move away. It – it was none of my making, you understand. Something that happened years ago, but I’m finding it hard to cope with the knowledge.’